Nigel Shouldn't
by raiderl
Summary: This is a response on the LJ DWP site to the comment ficathon.


_Prompt by WrittenSword: _Miranda/Andy, _"Nigel knew he shouldn't be watching, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene that unfolded on Miranda's desk."_

_**Warnings, disclaimers etc. – I do not own The Devil Wears Prada book or movie and I'm not making any money off of this. I'm unemployed and near broke so leave me alone; I'm a girl that just wants to take them out for a ride and have a little fun. As for rating, this is NC-17 and NSFW, even if you should be employed by Good Vibrations, it still would probably get you into trouble. Toy alert. Any other alerts would just give it all away. Enjoy!**_

**Nigel Shouldn't**

Nigel stood from his desk and stretched, groaning when he eyed the clock; 10:15. _I need to get out of here, it __**is**__ a Friday night; live a little, or at least open some wine and kick back on the couch._ He snorted at his pitiful social life and picked up the last of the layout changes.

The hallways were dimly lit, indication that the cleaning crews had already been through, as he made his way to his boss' office. He knew she would be long gone by now, having mentioned dinner plans with Andy. He was pleased that his subtle matchmaking efforts had paid off, the reporter and editor had reconnected at his holiday party nearly nine months before and had embarked upon a tumultuous affair full of ups and downs. Neither woman would give him many details but from the blushes he was able to induce in both with a few well-placed comments indicated that things were progressing quite nicely.

Approaching the assistant's area quietly, never able to break the habit of proceeding carefully while near to the lion's den, he was surprised to see light shining through the barely closed door of Miranda's office. He stopped for a moment hoping to discern whether the area was occupied and if so by whom. _Hmm, voices_. He was irked that someone would have the balls to encroach upon the editor's space until he realized he recognized one of the voices belonged to Andy. _What the hell is Six doing here? _

He edged closer to the door and was just able to remain in shadow, gaining a clear view of Miranda's desk.

"I know I left it here somewhere."

"Perhaps it fell out of your bag in the car, did you check the seat cushions or the floor?"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's too big to just fall out. No matter; I don't remember having it in the car, the last place I saw it was when I had Emily…"

"No! Please tell me Emily does NOT know what was in that package…" Six was quite panicked and suddenly Nigel's interest in the conversation, which he was about to interrupt due to its innocuousness, kept him rooted in the dark.

He glimpsed Miranda's evil smile as she passed across his view to look at the shelves where several boxes were piled. "Relax darling only John knows what was in that box. All Emily is aware of is that she needed to retrieve a package from the Galliano showroom."

"I still can't believe you trusted that…"

"Careful dear, he may be having his issues lately but he is still a brilliant designer and he is very loyal to me." There was a pause as the editor skewered the younger woman with a look. "And you know the extent to which I value loyalty, don't you darling?"

Andy cleared her throat with what Nigel interpreted as nerves until she spoke, in a low commanding tone he had never in a million years would have guessed she could pull off. "Mmm, yes, I certainly do."

The fashion director started to think maybe he really should leave but something in Andy's tone kept him glued to the floor; curiosity getting the better of him. He heard the footsteps on carpet and then saw as the younger woman stood in front of the regal editor; taking both hands in her own she caressed the backs with her thumbs. "Baby, I think you've been looking in the wrong place all along."

The younger woman proceeded to slide both of her lover's hands down the mini plaid wraparound skirt she was sporting until they reached the hemline, careful to keep the editor's exploration confined to the outer thighs. Miranda gasped as she realized the inference and the look of surprise that morphed into an instant hunger made Nigel realize that if he were to stay another second that he was running the risk, upon discovery, of summary execution. Unfortunately this was simply too compelling a scene to pass up, his inner perv clapping with glee at its good fortune. Thus he backed away a bit more and shifted a bit, ensuring he was truly out of sight and at a better angle.

The younger woman by now had backed up so she was now resting against the side of the woman's glass topped desk. A desk that was considerably devoid of any desky items. He spared a moment to contemplate when that had occurred but the younger woman's fingers undoing the buttons of the starched white blouse threw out that train of thought. He watched, fascinated at the editor's pout as her hands were gently knocked away when they tried to pull the shirt tails to freedom.

"Oh no baby, only when I say. Patience; you don't want me to have to restrain you, do you?"

The regal editor paused in what appeared as contemplation then took a step back and lowered her head slightly. "No mistress."

The caress that earned the editor as the younger woman reached across the small space was pure love as was the expression on her face but within a blink of an eye it morphed into a sudden focused hardness that mimicked the tone when she next spoke.

"On your knees."

Nigel was by this point near hyperventilation; the 'Devil in Heels', the 'Terror of the Runway', the one human being he thought would never, ever bow to another was dropping in supplication like a well-trained bottom! He now knew his life was forfeit for even if he were somehow able to slink back to his office unseen surely the editor would be able to tell by looking in his eyes.

Still, he had trespassed enough. He took two steps back into the darkness when Andrea's hypnotic voice, husky and confident, uttered two simple commands.

"Stay. Watch."

l l l l l l l

Sweat broke out on the hidden watcher's brow and a slight tremble caused the long forgotten layouts to rustle gently in the enveloping silence. _Oh dear god, surely she wasn't talking to me. _Nigel stood on the precipice. Stay or go. Acquiesce and admit his trespass or slink away and pretend the prior ten minutes had never happened. However his hesitation was long enough to seal his fate; the younger woman, who was now gently running her fingers through the silver hair of the head bowed before her, took away his choice.

"But Nigel," the usually approachable and friendly flavor of his friend's voice was replaced by a cajoling sensuality, the dichotomy of which completely short-circuited his ability for rational thought. "I don't want to see you."

The flutter of paper as it scattered and dropped to the floor in the outer office caused the editor to flinch slightly and a smirk to spread across the former assistant's face. She reached down and carefully tilted the older woman's head so that their eyes met. "I need you to see what a wonder your pet designer created for us love."

Slowly the younger woman's hands reached for the fastener that held the wrapped skirt in place, two sets of eyes riveted, neither daring to look away. Steady hands peeled the fabric back and away, and then let it drop to lay on either side, revealing two very toned thighs curving up into the white of the opened blouse. Artic blue eyes widened slightly and then darkened, the irises nearly obscured by pupils dilated by extreme arousal. The younger woman wore nothing below the waist except for an exquisitely crafted gold-dyed butter soft leather harness studded with what appeared to be precious and semi-precious stones in varying tones of red. But the showpiece was what the harness held within its grasp, a swirling ribbed phallus made of glass, reds and golds weaving in a pattern both whimsical and captivating, made even more so by the understanding that part of it laid buried within the younger woman's folds.

Andrea suddenly stood, dragging the skirt from underneath and discarding it without care out of sight; the blouse followed and Andy was left standing in a carnelian lace bra and matching thigh highs, four inch Christian Loos of the darkest red-brown completing the ensemble.

_Exquisite._ Nigel had to pause at both the brilliance of the image and of the design, for the harness also served as a garter belt; never in a million years would he have guessed that the ugly duckling that plopped into Runway three years before would look so absolutely captivating. He had to stifle a gasp when she turned more fully towards his position, the younger woman was completely free of hair, leaving absolutely nothing of her anatomy to his imagination.

Suddenly the entire scene shifted and no longer was he watching his friends, his boss and her lover, instead, he felt as though a curtain on a stage had parted, inviting its audience of one in as both voyeur and participant. With this realization came the fullness of his own arousal and he was at a loss as to what could actually be done about it; he couldn't very well shoot off onto the carpet and the alternative was ruining his $3000 Armani pants. That thought didn't last long for the younger woman had once again rested that fine ass, an ass that was making his very gay mouth water, on the glass top and leaned back, arching her spine, the swells of her ample breasts pushing against their lacy confines.

"Stand, strip for me. Leave the garter, stockings and the shoes, remove everything else."

The editor, who had remained silent throughout the display and had watched every move like her very life depended upon it, rose gracefully and began to disrobe, carefully removing and folding each piece; eyes never leaving those of the one woman for whom she would do anything.

Andrea truly did own her but it was acceptable because the younger woman also knew that the editor completely owned Andrea. Theirs was an adventurous, reciprocal relationship built upon a strong foundation of trust; trust that had not come easily or without some pain and misunderstanding; trust that was still building. Trust that now was being extended out to a third party whether or not she liked it.

Miranda had completed her instructions and stood still, hands behind her back, awaiting the next directive. She was having difficulty keeping herself in the scene, knowing that one of her closest friends was watching. She trembled slightly with both the arousal that the beautiful woman before her inspired and with indignation that she would be so humbled in front of a witness who was not faceless, who did in fact know her. Still, she trusted her lover and that was what this was all about, thus she allowed it to continue.

"Did you remember my instructions love?"

Miranda flinched; _surely she wouldn't now_.

The dark haired goddess rose from her nearly supine position and braced herself with arms straight, gripping the edge of the desk. "Please, take your time." She pitched her voice lower, and the sarcasm lacing it was not lost on anyone. "You _so_ know how I _love_ to be kept waiting."

"Yes." Miranda managed to choke out a quiet, "Yes" before she realized her mistake; she followed up with a quicker and more audible, "Yes, mistress." But it was too late.

The reporter hopped down and slid around back of the other woman, arms reaching around her torso, hands lightly stroking along the sloping breasts until she grabbed both nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezed, hard. The silver haired woman flinched but bit her bottom lip, stifling a cry even as a new flood of moisture betrayed her need.

"I think you need a reminder of who is in control here." Andrea pushed against the other woman's back forcing her to reach forward with both hands and brace herself against the desk for support. "Spread your legs and prepare for your punishment."

The editor immediately complied, leaning down so her head sank below her shoulders, flattening her pale back and presenting her rear; anticipation of what was to come taking her arousal to the next level.

The first smack with the flat of Andrea's hand cracked through the office like a shot. Nigel's head shot up and his cock grew harder, if that was at all possible. Nine more followed and then the brunette stepped forward and stroked three fingers into the glistening opening, sliding messily.

"Oh yeah, you are sorry. I can feel how sorry you are Miranda; mmmm I can smell your sorrow at your mistake and…" She stuck the three fingers into her mouth, "…oh I can taste it."

Without warning she gave one last stroke of the tongue and then moved the fingers straight back into the well lubricated channel pumping hard and fast. When the older woman's hips began to thrust back, attempting to deepen the fucking Andy's hand returned to her ass-cheek with a stinging slap. "You are not allowed to come; do you understand me?"

"Please, I need you to fuck me." The harsh entreaty was barely recognizable as belonging to the dragon most feared.

Andrea removed her fingers from their wet home and dragged them up towards the other entrance, wetness coating the puckered opening as they rubbed against it. "Oh, I intend to but not before you treat our guest to a show he won't long forget. Spread your legs farther and rest your forehead on the desk." The editor quickly complied. "Very good. You must really being aching to come by now, is that right?"

When no answer was forthcoming the younger woman grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the silver head back. "That was not a rhetorical question Miranda. Do. You. Need. To. Come?"

Miranda sobbed out a desperate "Yes Mistress!"

Andrea reached between the older woman's legs and swiped over the hardened nub of her clit, once, twice…"Then come for me." three times until the body beneath her shuddered and flushed; a low moaning gasp barely escaping the woman's lips.

Andrea slowly licked from the nape of the editor's neck, down the long arch of her spine. "Oh yeeees." She hissed. "You are so beautiful when you come." She held the woman in place with both hands as she continued to lick and nibble down towards the hollows at the base of her spine. "But I know you want more. I want more. I want you to scream when you come next, do you hear me?" The younger woman bit at the fleshy globe beneath her and then repeated the gesture on its mirror, eliciting a startled yelp from the helplessly turned on woman.

Miranda knew that she needed to answer quickly or else should would have to endure even more torturous, non-orgasm related play so she barked a quick affirmation and readied herself for the assault she knew was coming.

They had never done this before, not with an object, especially one as hard and large as the appendage between Andrea's legs; the most she had taken was two fingers. But she knew that tonight, with as worked up as her love had her, anything at all that the woman threw at her she would be able to handle. Failure was not an option; so she readied herself the best she knew how, bending lower and spreading to the limit of her ability to maintain and awaited her mistress' next move. Her effort was not missed.

"Oh, very good, baby, very good. Nigel, do you see how compliant our Miranda can be given the proper instruction?"

_Oh god, Nigel._ She had forgotten about him and Andrea's deliberate call of attention to him put her on notice that while she would be rewarded that there was still an additional "prop" that her mistress was going to play to its fullest potential.

Silence reigned as Nigel held his breath. _Surely she doesn't expect me to answer?_

"Good boy Nigel. Silent; I don't want to see you or hear you, understand? And once I have fucked this beautiful woman in her beautiful ass and she comes, screaming, you are to leave. Do you understand?" Andrea stroked the object of her speech with both hands while she waited for her directive to sink in. Between her lover's forceful words and the soft caresses of her still warm from its spanking rear end created even more of an urgency, allowing her to push past all care that they had an audience.

More silence, although both women heard a strangled sigh and the shifting of material.

"Good, let's get started shall we?" And she knelt on one knee and continued her tongue's journey, sliding slowly into the crease that separated her buttocks, sucking and biting as she went. When her tongue glided over the puckered opening her quarry shuddered and moaned, with each passing and deepening of the contact a louder sound emanated and the opening relaxed. When Andrea finally speared her tongue inside a louder keening began that endured as her tormentor's fingers plunged into her dripping vagina.

The editor was reaching the point of no return, that place where she ceased to exist beyond the intense sexuality that transcended every other sensation and need beyond respiration. Every nerve ending, every brain cell, every fiber of her essence was keyed into the exquisite torture being visited upon her most private spaces. She WANTED with a purity of intent that would have been unattainable without the overwhelming sensations bombarding her at every turn; warm sucking, soft muscle, rigid fingers, teeth biting, and now a hard object sliding without any resistance into her weeping core. That object, guided by well-thought out thrusts designed only to arouse, not finish. That object that pushed in as she felt the retreat of flesh, fingers she thinks, as they work in a rhythm inside her darker channel, designed to open her up and make her ready for the coming invasion.

Awareness now, briefly of a withdrawal, and her body unconsciously knows now to relax, to push outwards and accept as the now warmed glass begins its slow pegging of her very open and willing body.

"Oh god baby, you are so ready for me. Please let me in, please let me fuck your ass like you've been begging for so long." Andrea's next words are nearly whispered, her hot breath tickling her ear; only for her to hear, for her to witness. "Please let me love you like I know you need."

With a sudden shifting of long legs and curving hips Miranda feels herself impaled; every rib, every bump, every subtle curve sliding home, lubricated by her own copious moisture and probably some of her lover's too as she became aware of a slickness when the glass cock was driven all the way in and her lover rested, body flush with hers. They stay like that for long moments and then her Andrea started to move, back, hold, in; back, hold, in. The rhythm starts to grow faster and it is at this point that Miranda finally understands what it means to unravel completely for she loses all sense of time, all sense of her connection to time and to space and to her conscious self. All she knows is this startling connection with the woman she loves, with the woman who has trusted her with her deepest fantasies and who she has trusted in return with both secrets and vulnerability. When fingers finally reach around her front and swipe over her torturously hard nub her world shatters completely and she explodes with an undulating wail that rises and crests and does so again as the being joined with her comes into her own bliss and they ascend together into an egoless world of joy and love.

After moments of silence, when only their harsh breathing is heard, rapid footfalls heading away signal that they are now alone. As Andrea withdraws from her sore bottom the older woman experiences a profound expulsion of emotion that culminates into harsh sobbing. She is dimly aware of Andrea shifting and hears what sounds like clips being released and then a weightlessness followed by all-encompassing warmth.

Softness under and warm flesh above before darkness finally conquers.

l l l l l l l

Andy lies wrapped around the unconscious woman, overwhelming love and tenderness evident in dark eyes bright with unshed tears. Watching the slow rise and fall of the most perfect miracle that ever graced her life the young woman feels the exhaustion begin to settle. She wants nothing more than to give in but knows that this is not a safe place for them, even with the now locked door between them and any further voyeuristic intrusions.

She strokes the still heated skin below and nuzzles behind a convenient ear. _Nigel._ She wonders at the audacity of herself for that was an element completely unplanned; well, she did allow that the possibility could present itself when she decided to make several of her love's fantasies come true this night. The younger woman allowed the power she felt in her success to fill her with the strength to banish any feeling of embarrassment or awkwardness; this was who she was and she wasn't going to be ashamed. She hoped that somehow the man would be able to see it for the gesture of trust it was and move on without any deterioration in working relationship or friendship.

Returning to the moment she felt as her partner began to shiver so the young woman rolled away and pulled a soft fleece throw from the bottom drawer of a lateral file cabinet, covering her from neck to foot. She then set about cleaning the office space, ensuring the older woman's desk was made right and the editor's façade maintained. When all was satisfactory she pulled an overnight bag that had been stashed below the sofa and retrieved a comfortable, black cotton pants and shirt ensemble, made of wrinkle free fabric along with a pair of low-heeled black sandals and laid them neatly on the chair next to the couch. She did not anticipate them to run into anyone but there were still the surveillance cameras in the halls and elevator and the security guards in the lobby; it was of utmost importance for Andy that her lover receive every care to ensure her image while she removed her from this place and returned her home where she could recover without prying eyes.

And indeed, recovery was certainly going to be needed as Andy had pushed beyond boundaries so far untried; the woman responding from a place far less fettered than ever before. Thinking about it made the young woman's arousal spike suddenly, her inner channel clenching at the memory of the glass toy as it moved within her with each thrust and every little movement. She groaned, they would need to wait until they returned to the townhouse where they could be alone, the girls visiting their father for the weekend. But her want was strong and not likely to abate anytime soon.

She found her phone and noting the time sent a text to Roy. He was on standby and would arrive 20 minutes after receiving the message; all that was left now was to somehow rouse the obviously exhausted older woman and begin the next phase of her plan. The rest of the night was to be about tender lovemaking and gentle touches; tomorrow she had asked Miranda to make completely clear as she had designed the day to pamper and nurture the older woman, mindful that after a scene of this intensity that there could be negative emotional repercussions if left untended.

She moved into Miranda's private washroom and snagged a couple of washrags, filling a small ceramic bowl the editor sometimes uses for late night leftover reheating, with warm water. As she watched the woman she loves more than anyone else slowly recover she lovingly wiped away the tear tracks and smeared makeup, placing light kisses in their trail while whispering words of love and entreaties to return to the conscious world. She moved next to the area between her legs, wiping another cloth gently, removing the drying bodily fluids evidencing both women's pleasure. Unable to help herself she joined the cloth with her lips and placed a kiss on the silver curls pleased when a slight humming sound greets the action. Knowing it would be welcome and lost to resistance she swiped her tongue along the length of the older woman's moist slit, gathering new liquid as she began to suck lightly at the hardening clit. Hands moved through her hair with each suck and lick, grasping and pulling slightly as the woman below quickly slid into an arcing climax that ended with a long, hissing exhalation of "Yes!".

When she looked up she is speared by the bluest eyes, completely open and free of censure, shame or worry. As Miranda raised her arms and arched her body into a long, languid stretch Andy dragged her hands over the sensual curves until they cupped the editor's face in a sweet caress that settled both women. Andy beamed a broad welcoming smile that spoke of love, relief and trust then slowly descended into a deep and searching kiss, their official signal of the transition back into their everyday selves.

"Andrea." A dry croaking, but still potent in its effect.

"Yes love?" Tenderly uttered, deep brown eyes hypnotizing and soothing.

"Take me home."

l l l l l l l

Midafternoon the next day the doorbell rang and Cara, Miranda's long time housekeeper, answered. The women were in the kitchen finishing a late lunch, having only surfaced a half hour before when the older woman walked into the kitchen with a large, square, florist's box. Once Cara had moved to another room in the house the package was set on the counter and they removed the packaging.

Both gasped at the reveal. A deep carnelian ceramic glazed pot held two intertwining orchids, white streaked with more of the dark red. The card read simply:

"_A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."_ Oscar Wilde

_Thank you. Nigel_

The End.


End file.
